Costa to Côte

From Levkas, via Sicily to the south of France, Rod Heikell goes in search of some high-season value in the western Med

It’s what I tell everyone and it should be tattooed on my forehead: high season summer is no time to go cruising the coasts of Italy and France. At the beginning of July, most of the locals shut up shop and go on holiday. A lot of them have boats of one sort or another and so the coasts and islands are busy with everyone who has something that floats out on the water. So just what was I doing there in July and August?

The usual excuses apply. We had work to finish off. A friend was ill and needed comfort. And when we finally got out to Skylax in Greece, the job list didn’t quite work out as planned and everything just took longer than we thought. That left us setting off for Italy in mid-June and all set to arrive just in time for the high season. “Well so be it,” we said, and if we have to shell out for an expensive marina here or there, we would just have to grin and bear it. Not that we intended to do that often, but if the weather turns or an anchorage proves to be untenable then there is usually the option of good, if expensive, shelter nearby.

It turned out to be a fairly windy summer. Is it just me or do I detect the seasons moving forward by one month or six weeks. Most of the evidence is anecdotal, mine included, but it does seem as if settled summer patterns are later in the year and run into what used to be early autumn.

We had three goes at leaving the Ionian for Roccella Ionica or the Strait of Messina depending on the weather. On the first we had just left the bottom of Levkas when we got a text from a friend in Messina who was delivering a boat from France to Greece. ‘Gale blowing,’ the text read, ‘Expect to be here for another day or so.’ We double-checked and
sure enough a gale warning had just been issued for the Ionian. We were to have one more attempt before we finally left nearly a week later.
Roccella Ionica on the sole of Italy’sboot is an overnighter and a welcome sight after a feisty night with 25-30 knots around 50° off for our course there. It has developed into a really useful marina under the aegis of Francesco and the consortium that took it over. In calm weather, you can anchor off the beach, but if there is an onshore wind or a ground swell then head into the marina.

The entrance silts and is periodically dredged. The problem always used to be knowing if it had been dredged or if you took the long route in parallel to the beach behind the sand bar. Now if you call them up (VHF Ch14) they will send a RIB out to guide you in. The marina is as friendly as ever and you get the use of a bike to cycle into the village. The pizza restaurant on the front still sells pizza by the half metre and it is as good as it ever was.

From Roccella it is a long day’s haul to Reggio Calabria which now has pontoons in the commercial harbour. You can try calling on VHF Ch9, though the best policy is just to approach the pontoons and one of the marineros will wave you in. This is the stomping ground of Saverio, who, at 78, is still treading the pontoon boards offering his taxi service as well as his cheese (very good), wine (hmm) and pastries for breakfast. You can’t miss him.

Sicily

Things turn out better than you planned for sometimes. We pottered along the north coast of Sicily looking at harbours en route to Milazzo and consequently arrived late afternoon. There is the main marina inside the commercial harbour and two outfits with pontoon berths tucked into a bight just outside. Inside we were told in no uncertain terms there were no berths, so we went to Porto Santa Maria Maggiore just outside where there were berths. This is arguably a better place to be and, even though there is a bit of wash from the ferries, it is still a lot more peaceful than the commercial harbour and situated in a more attractive part of the old town. I asked at the office for their recommendation for a nearby restaurant and that night we dined at the Giardino di Sicilia. The seafood carpaccio plate was so good we had to have it twice and that restaurant is as good a reason as any to go back to Milazzo, though the manager promised to find one even better next time.

From here we touched base along the coast at Sant Agata di Militello (quiet and friendly), Cefalù (an old favourite) until we finally arrived in downtown Palermo. Here there are numerous berths on pontoons or on the quay in the old port. Things can get a bit bizarre sometimes and we were waved into a berth on one lot of pontoons and once we were safely tied up were told to leave. So we went over to the Molo Bersagliere opposite where once we were tied up the man on the original berth that kicked us off came over to tell us we could now go on his pontoon. Since we were safely tied up we declined in some puzzlement over the whole affair.

People either love or hate Palermo. I’m in the former lot. It is noisy, chaotic, busy and a bit bewildering after quieter places. It is also exciting, has wonderful architecture, helpful locals and some very good restaurants. Wandering home after a supermarket trip I spied the Libreria del Mare, a wonderful nautical bookshop and art gallery run by Maurizio and a bit of a game-changer for us. We had planned to head for Spain and across the Atlantic again, but after spending the evening with Maurizio I wondered just why I was going to leave all this, the bookshop with soul, the restaurants, the people, behind me. We decided to postpone the Atlantic for now.

Perched on the northwest corner of Sicily is Capo San Vito, a vertical lump of limestone that defines the place. The water shallows up to wonderful blues and turquoise as you approach the bay, though thankfully it is deeper than it looks. The harbour off the town has various pontoon concessions and you choose whichever one you fancy or one that has room. Ashore the resort, San Vito Lo Capo, is a bit ‘kiss-me-quick’, but still a pleasant place for a passeggiata and a glass of something before dinner. At sunset the cliffs of the cape turn to umber and red and the setting is a travel agent’s dream.

To read the full story of Rod’s travels around the Med see ST’s June issue

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